Murder Is Our Mascot (28 page)

My excitement was short-lived. Photographs of Bobby Glitter in magazines showed a sexy British stud with wavy, jet black hair, sharp cheekbones, and smoldering, midnight blue eyes. The man on the bus steps was tall and lanky with stringy black-grey hair that hung limply in his face. His cheeks were sunken, and his face had the gaunt, hollow look of drug addiction. The man's once-dark eyes were cloudy and dulled from a drunken stupor. My heart sank.

Bobby staggered off the bus and lost his balance, pitching forward down the steps and nearly falling face-first on the street. He found his footing at the last second and clumsily straightened himself before leering down at me. His eyes roved over my chest, and I pulled my blazer closed. "Who is this lovely young bird?" he crooned, stretching his thin lips in an eerie smile.

This
was the man whose picture I'd cut out and secretly carried around in my compact mirror in tenth grade? Ick
!
Eyes on the prize, Ame,
I reminded myself of the promotion.
Don't screw this up.
I recovered from my disgust quickly—and hopefully unnoticeably—and extended my hand to the aging pop star. "We're so honored that you've chosen to shoot your tour video here at Castle Rock!" I smiled graciously at them all and turned to lead the way into the venue. "Come on. I'll show you around and then take you to the green room to get settled before sound check."

"And maybe after the show, you could come back to my suite at the hotel. We could dig into the mini-bar and then hit the hot tub…see where the night takes us." He squeezed one eye shut in a creepy wink.

Promotion. Promotion. Promotion.
The word echoed in my head like a mantra as I fought off my gag reflex. "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Glitter, but—"

"Please, love, call me Bobby." He bounced his bushy black eyebrows up and down.

Jared watched our exchange with a look of amusement. "Don't give her too much trouble yet, Bob. It's only Monday. You've got a whole week to chase skirts." Though he was smiling, his voice carried an undertone of warning. His green eyes found mine, and I felt my cheeks flush. Candy stepped between us, glaring. I had a feeling she and I weren't going to be best buds anytime soon.

"Right this way, folks," I said, ignoring her. Cliff, the curly-haired Marlboro Man, snuffed out his cigarette and joined the group as I lead the five of them through the entrance to Castle Rock.

The front of the venue boasted a huge wooden door with a large brass knocker like you might see on a real castle. While there were other entrances to the building—a smaller door in the front, one on the west side, and also an employee-only exit in the back—this was the way that concertgoers entered the venue for a show. People loved the novelty of it, and I'd seen countless patrons stop to snap a photo in the doorway. Everyone felt like rock royalty when that large door opened to grant them entrance to Castle Rock.

"This place sure is fancy," Candy said, awestruck. She tilted her face upward to gawk at the architecture.

"How regal," Shawn remarked. His eyes roved slowly over each stone, and he rubbed his hands together. I thought I even saw him lick his lips as he gazed up at the tower. I was glad he was pleased to have such a unique location for Bobby's video shoot.

I chuckled. "Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet!" I pulled open the large wooden door and ushered them into the entrance hall.

While the exterior of the building was quite a sight, the venue's interior was the real spectacle. From the outward appearance of the castle, one might expect a lavish entrance hall with a beautiful crystal chandelier and a mile of gaudy red carpet—but the authenticity of the castle-like appearance didn't reach past the main door. We had a red carpet, alright—but the black-light bulbs from the floor lights made the chintzy tapestry take on more of a deep purple hue. The chandelier that hung high above the hall wasn't made of colorless crystals, either. Instead, it was comprised of bright multi-colored transparent gems. They reflected a rainbow of colors that danced along the walls as the light fixture swayed slightly from the air current created by opening and closing the front doors.

"Sweet window art," Jared said. He ran his fingers gently over one of the stained-glass windows in the entrance hall. There were two of these windows; one was built into the wall on either side of the front hallway, with floodlights set up below each to illuminate their rock-themed designs. One window featured a winged blue electric guitar soaring high above a lake of fire, while the other depicted a red guitar placed on a golden throne, with waves of musical notes floating away from it down a red carpet.

"Those were designed by Jackson Deering, the original owner of Castle Rock," I explained. Jackson, Parker's father, passed away two years ago and left the venue to his son.

I turned back to smile at Jared and found that Candy and Bobby had wedged themselves between us. Cliff shuffled behind them, looking disinterested, and Shawn brought up the rear as he carefully inspected his surroundings. I stifled a sigh and led them down the hall to the downstairs stage.

Forty-five minutes later, we stood in the green room with cold beers in hand, having wrapped up our tour of the venue. After dodging several more drunken propositions from Bobby, I was relieved to see Laura Holly step through the door. Laura was our most popular bartender. Some nights she had customers lined up twenty deep just to order a drink from her.

Since I'd last seen her at Camila's over lunch, Laura had changed from jeans and sweater into a tight, black leather skirt and the Castle Rockettes baby tee. It was also too short for her, but she didn't seem to mind baring a little extra skin. She'd cut the sleeves off, and it looked more like a bra than a tank top.

"Hi, y'all," she cooed in a twangy Southern accent. I knew the drawl was one hundred and ten percent fake, reserved for coaxing customers to drop an extra dollar or two into the tip jar. Patrons weren't crazy about her tough-girl Boston accent, so she'd adopted her own version of a sweet Georgia lilt. I wasn't a fan. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends here, Amelia?" She drew out each syllable of my name, "A-meee-leee-yaaa," in a singsong drawl that drove me nuts.

"Everyone, this is Laura Holly, one of our bartenders. She'll be happy to bring you more drinks."

Laura grinned. "Sure thing! Can I get any of you another brewski?" I rolled my eyes at her rehearsed Southern charm. She was laying it on thick, and, as usual, it was working. The men practically drooled as she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and fluttered her lashes. Even the quiet drummer, Cliff, gave a low admiring whistle.

Candy didn't like the way Jared was eyeing the lovely bartender. She made her displeasure known with a loud cough and a hard elbow to Jared's ribs. It was good to know it wasn't just me she hated.

"I'd love another drink," Bobby drawled as he ogled her, instantly smitten.

"Comin' right up, stud." Laura gave a small curtsy and winked at him before leaving the room. I was relieved that Bobby found someone else to leer at. It was funny to think that I'd had countless fantasies about pinning him down in this very room, and now I couldn't wait to get away from him.
Be careful what you wish for, am I right?

"If you're hungry, there should be enough snacks here to hold you until after sound check." I gestured to the smorgasbord of cheeses, meats, crackers, bite-sized sandwiches and more set up in an attractive display across the long buffet table. I'd gotten every refreshment Bobby had requested on the rider—the list of demands from his contract. The table was stocked with everything from chilled coconut water to a bottle of brandy and a bowl of green—and only green—peanut butter M&Ms. Rock stars are so needy.

"Actually, love, I'm craving something a little…
sweeter."
Bobby stared hungrily after Laura. "Like a Georgia peach." He cackled at his innuendo.

Cliff silently munched away on a handful of M&Ms, and Candy dragged Jared over to the table to fix a plate of snacks. Shawn stood in the corner of the room, texting away on his cell phone. He must have felt my eyes on him because he looked up and smiled, flashing me those sharp pearly whites again. "Is the owner in today, by chance?" he asked. "I'd like to introduce myself since we'll be around here all week."

"He's downstairs in his office, I think. I'd be happy to walk you down there," I offered. Anything to keep Mr. Moneybags happy.

I led him downstairs to Parker's office. My ears perked as we halted in front of the door. Parker's laughter could be heard from inside. A woman responded in hushed, sultry tones, too muffled to understand. I could hear my boss loud and clear, though. "Oh yeah, baby," he said, his voice unusually thick. "Right there…" His words dissolved into a husky moan.

I whirled away from the door, shocked.
Seriously? First Kat—and now Parker?
Another throaty growl erupted from Parker's office, followed by a passionate sigh. I blushed. When did Castle Rock become a sexual playground?
And why am I the only one not getting any?
I thought, blushing harder when Jared's rugged features flashed through my mind.

Behind me, Shawn cleared his throat, causing me to jump.
Oh no.
I wasn't the only one who could hear Parker and his mystery lover. I could kiss that promotion goodbye if Parker knew I'd let a client listen in on his afternoon booty call. I had to do something.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stone," I said loudly. I flung myself in front of the office door, as if my body would shield his ears from the primal noises on the other side. "I, er, forgot that Mr. Deering had a meeting this afternoon."

"Right." Though his tone was dry, he didn't sound angry. In fact, there was an amused expression on Shawn's face as Parker's lover let out another loud sigh. His dark eyes sparkled with a hungry curiosity that made me uneasy.

"Very well, then," Shawn said in a good-natured tone. "I'll come back down when he's no longer
tied up
." He winked at me before disappearing back into the stairwell. I stared after him.
What the hell…?

Another moan from Parker's office sent me scurrying down the hall. Between the overheard booty calls, Bobby's lewd advances, and Stone's voyeuristic reaction to Parker's tryst, I felt dirty. Glancing down at my trashy skintight Castle Rockettes shirt was the last straw.
Screw it. I need a break.
I stalked toward my office.

Kat hobbled inside as I reached my door. She'd changed into a bright purple long-sleeved tee and skinny jeans. Catching sight of me, she made a beeline for my office. I held open my door and let her stumble past me, where she plopped down in the chair opposite my desk.

"Finally!" she cried, peeling off her boots. "Traffic was a bitch! I had to park in a garage off of Peachtree and hoof it the rest of the way here. Seriously regretting my choice of footwear right now." She rubbed a spot on her foot where a bright red blister was already forming.
Ouch
. Kat looked up at me. "What'd I miss?"

"You don't wanna know."

She made a face. "That bad, huh?" She glanced at my top. "I can't believe you're actually wearing that."

I sighed. "There's got to be a way to get rid of these without jeopardizing my promotion." I thought for a moment and then snapped my fingers. "What if we give the whole box of 'em to the merch booth and sell them during the show? Parker can't get mad if we turn a nice profit, right?"

Kat's eyes lit up. "Ame, that's brilliant!" She high-fived me. "Spoken like a true future venue co-owner," she said, winking. "I'll grab them from Parker's office and drop them by the merch booth."

"Actually," I said, gathering some walkie-talkies into a mesh bag, "how about I get them while you take these to the stage crew? It'll give you a chance to meet Bobby." Sound check was starting, and I wasn't ready to face Shawn just yet after our awkward encounter outside Parker's office.

"Really?" Kat snatched up the bag and gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. "You're the best!" She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and ran her fingers through the strands to pump up the volume. "Wish me luck!" She winked and then bounded out of the office.

I closed the door and quickly tugged off my blazer so I could pull the tiny shirt over my head. It had been tighter than a corset, and I sighed with relief that I could finally breathe normally again. Parker would just have to understand that I couldn't run his venue for him if I suffocated.

After changing back into my crimson shirt and grey blazer, I printed the will call list and gathered several bundles of tickets to take to the box office out front.

I headed toward Parker's office first to see if the coast was clear to sneak in and snag the box of T-shirts. I was just in time to see Shawn Stone step into Parker's office. The door closed behind him.

I cringed. I wasn't about to barge into Parker's office while he was speaking with a client. Grabbing the shirts would have to wait. Instead, I headed toward the box office to find our intern, Bronwyn Sinclair.

Bron sat at the box office window, smacking her gum and twirling a teeny strand of her hot pink hair around her finger as she flipped through the latest issue of
Cosmo.
"Hey!" she protested when I slid the will call list over the page she was reading.

I glanced down at the magazine. "That article on '9 Ways to Please Your Man in the Bedroom' can wait, honey. You're on the clock."

"Fine," the nineteen year-old grumbled. She rolled her heavily made-up eyes and slid the magazine back into her purse.

I sat the ticket bundles on the counter and gestured to the papers I'd given her. "There's a separate list for each night—this one is for tonight only. If you can't find a name under the Will Call section, check Bobby's guest list on the last page."

"Got it, boss lady. This ain't my first rodeo," Bron griped. She seemed extra moody today. I started to ask what was bothering her when something behind me caught her attention. Bronwyn's face lit up. "Sweet! 95Rox is here!"

I turned and shielded my eyes against the setting sun. A cargo van displaying the logo of our local rock station, 95Rox, was pulling to a stop in front of the gravel walkway. A man in a 95Rox baseball cap climbed out of the driver's seat and began unloading equipment from the back of the vehicle. Another man with a silver ponytail and goatee hopped out of the passenger side and approached us, waving. His torn jeans and faded 95Rox shirt made him look like a roadie.